


Three Weeks to Weisshaupt

by noseforahtwo



Series: Gordon Blackwall [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Praise Kink, Voyeurism, pre game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noseforahtwo/pseuds/noseforahtwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surly sellsword Thom Rainier signs on for recruitment with eternally-upbeat Warden Blackwall.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>He could feel the Warden’s eyes on him as he stripped off and stepped into the stream. Was it part of the Joining, part of recruitment that he was supposed to be won over by the Constable? He’d already agreed to give his life to killing darkspawn, was getting fucked in the woods the first part of initiation?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was on the tip of his tongue to start grousing about just what he’d gotten himself into. So far he’d learned nothing useful about the Grey Wardens. The Makerdamned nag Blackwall rode had bitten Thom twice in as many days and here he was chasing a fucking sheep around a ravine.

“So this is what you do when there’s no Blight on?” Thom hefted the filthy, bleating thing over his shoulders and puffed his way back up the hill. “Fix pastures nobody asked you to fix and catch sheep?”

Blackwall laughed, pushing a stone back into place along the crumbling waist high wall. “Aye, lad, if it needs doing.”

The Warden had a talent for seeing Things that Need Doing. At this rate they’d be a month getting to Weisshaupt. Just thinking the word made his stomach knot up. A wrinkled crone in black was coming along the path, her mule led by a skinny boy in shoes two sizes too big. Thom put the sheep on the other side of the repaired wall more gently than he otherwise would have and started trying to knock mud and dried turds from his shoulders while the Warden accepted the widow’s hospitality.

“I could use a meal I didn’t have to make. That goes double for poor William, I’ll wager.” Blackwall grinned down at the boy and handed over the reins of their horses before slapping Thom’s back. “A week of my cooking? He’s lucky I haven’t poisoned him yet. But we’ll need to scrub up before we’re good enough for the likes of your company, my lady.”

The old thing tittered and nudged the mule along.

***

He could feel the Warden’s eyes on him as he stripped off and stepped into the stream. Was it part of the Joining, part of recruitment that he was supposed to be won over by the Constable? He’d already agreed to give his life to killing darkspawn, was getting fucked in the woods the first part of initiation?

It wasn’t that he minded the idea of men fucking other men. Any port in a storm when he was a green private back in Denerim, but the Warden was always _smiling_ at him. Like he was the Warden’s equal. As if Thom hadn’t been following him around Ferelden like a lost puppy.   

If he was so determined to be friendly, then when was he going to let out something useful to know? Asking questions about his future had got him nowhere, and it started to get on Thom’s wick.

“If you won’t tell me anything, then what are we going to talk about from here on out?” Thom sat heavily in the frigid water, scrubbing soap into his scalp. He’d gone nearly numb already, might as well get sheep shit out of his hair.

“Anything you’d like, Will.” Blackwall dunked himself and came up cursing, water streaming from his black hair and curly beard.

“Thom.” His name came out of him like a splinter. Picked at, worried with teeth and fingernails over the past seven days until finally in the cold water the skin parted and the damned thing was free.

“What’s that?” Blackwall caught the chunk of soap Thom threw him and started washing himself.

“I’m Thom, not William.” Leaning his soapy head back on the rocks behind him, he waited for a spark of recognition. It had been a while since he’d heard Thom Rainier come up in a flea-ridden inn or around the fire at an out of the way crossroad. You never knew, though, who paid attention to Wanted bills and thief-takers.

But the Warden only grinned, showing a missing tooth. “It’s a good enough name. Though William suits you just as well. Actions, not names, those make a man.”

Thom nodded, not able to look the older man in the eye any longer. Scraping mud out from under his fingernails gave him something to do. Warden Blackwall may as well have “Good Man” tattooed across his forehead. Running down sheep, chopping wood for two days, chasing off a bunch of apostate nutters looking for trouble in run-down villages - he kept busy and he never once turned someone down. Last week Thom hadn’t seen much beyond a way out of the noose when he’d agreed to Recruitment. But there was something satisfying in the idea that strangers might want him around for more than beating Hurlocks to a pulp.

Not that the Warden didn’t look capable of that all on his own. He was a stocky shit. All thighs and biceps, with a gut coming on. There was a long narrow nose that somehow didn’t look like it had ever been broken. A miracle for a fighting man. His tanned hatchet face belied the heavy body under the griffon armor.

Pale, too, white as a sheet from neck to elbows. Watching brown hands wiping soap over his furry chest, Thom wondered just what Blackwall had done to earn the nasty scar on his belly. Lucky to be alive, from the looks of it. The scar branched out like a map of a desert gully. Threads of it spread all the way up to carve through the greying hair on his chest.

Blackwall noticed him looking and laughed. “It wasn’t such a good fight I needed this much souvenir, but the Healers did a lot of poking around.”

Thom felt himself go red. He ducked under the surface to get rid of the soap. He still woke up some nights, bellowing like he was back in the Emprise. It had taken five of his men holding him down on the snow, one on each limb and even a booted foot standing on his chest while the squad’s mage pulled chunks of shattered stone out of his side. Coming up, he wiped at his eyes and squinted in the glare off the water. “Sometimes it feels like you’d rather they just let you die in peace.”

“A peaceful death isn’t for the likes of us, Thom.”

***

In the loft of the widow’s barn, sacked out on hay and stuffed full he got comfortable. He’d never been able to sleep well in his clothes, but the older of the daughters on this muddy green patch of land had been eyeing him up something fierce at the table. Best to have his breeches and shirt on in case she got any foolish ideas in the wee hours. He was sweating and pushed his blanket down as he thought about the round arse her heavy skirts couldn’t hide.

Blackwall was snoring into the saddlebag he used for a pillow, head turned away. He settled in and stroked himself a bit; staring up at the rafters not thinking of anything much. Once he was good and firm he tugged harder and let out a moan though he tried to keep it quiet as his hips jerked.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get some help with that.”

Thom froze, his hand on his cock clenching tight.

Blackwall rolled over, hay rustling in the still loft. His eyes were heavy, moving over Thom’s chest, down to where the itchy wool was bunched up. “I’ve always been a light sleeper, lad.”

“Er, sorry.” Thom drew both knees up, tenting his blanket until the lump of hand-on-hardon wasn’t visible.

“No apologies.” The Warden scratched at his chin and yawned. “I’m wondering why you didn’t get a hand from the young miss, though.” He was still looking at him, just watching Thom lay there and go red in the face. “Not your type?”

“It didn’t seem polite.” Which was true enough. In fact he _had_ thought about it, and then thought about getting them both run off the farm with a pitchfork if her mother overheard. It wasn’t worth the trouble. The heavy thump of his pulse between his legs was starting up again as Blackwall nodded.

“Want some help, then?” He said it lightly, as though it made no difference either way.

Did he? His cock wasn’t against it. Blackwall fucked men. Well, he might fuck everybody, but right now it was obvious he fucked men. Shit. How long had it been since he’d had someone else’s hand on him?

Thom pushed the blanket down past his hips then kicked it off completely, keeping an eye on the Warden a foot away.  Those sleepy blue eyes went straight to the hand around his reddened cock, not quite as hard now in the cold air.

“Be my guest,” Thom said, letting his hand rest on his hip, but stroking his shaft with his scarred finger.

“Nah, lad, I said I’d _help_.” Blackwall shifted closer and down a little until he was on his side with  his head around Thom’s elbow. Blackwall’s hand stroked firmly up the inside of one thigh, then down around his sore knee. Which wasn’t smarting like it had been, now that he thought of it. On the way back up Blackwall circled Thom’s jutting hipbone where it stuck out between the waist of his breeches and the tail of his shirt. He put Thom’s hand back around his cock, but didn’t touch it himself. “You can do the work.”

Thom closed his eyes. Circling himself hard at the base with a thumb and forefinger he stroked with the other hand, faster now. The hand on his hip petted him, slid down between his legs and squeezed briefly. Easy but not shy. Blackwall’s thumb rubbed firm circles into the long muscle of one thigh then the other.

He moaned. He hadn’t meant to. He’d meant to get this strange thing done quick and quiet. But the pressure of Blackwall’s touch was just what his aching muscles needed.

“Sore, huh?”

Thom nodded and looked down. The big hand on his leg was odd, but when Blackwall tugged at his breeches, Thom wriggled until the Warden could pull them down to his knees. The older man sighed appreciatively and nudged him to bend his knees.

Val Royeaux had bath houses with big Rivaini blokes who’d massage you in a sweltering hot room, beat you with leafy birch branches until your skin stung then dump freezing water over you by the bucketful. It didn’t feel too good at the time, but fucking _great_ after.

This wasn’t that kind of a massage. Thom found he forgot to stroke his cock because he was concentrating so much on Blackwall’s hard fingers pushing the tension out of him. It almost hurt, and the warm friction of callused palm on his hairy leg served to remind Thom just who was touching him, even with his eyes closed again. A peek down and he could see Blackwall was concentrating on his work, propped up on an elbow not even looking at Thom’s erection.

“Reach my pack over,” Blackwall was hoarse. “There’s oil in there if you’d rather.”

Thom did and found the tiny bottle, pulling the stopper with his teeth.

“It’s gonna be cold,” Blackwall smiled up at his hurry and it made Thom’s cheeks burn.. “Give it a minute.” He took the vial, sealed it again and then stuck all but the neck of it it in his mouth.

Thom let his head fall back against his folded up coat while the Warden’s strong hand worked its way down one leg then the other. He heard a clink of glass against teeth and glanced down at Blackwall holding the vial - open and poised in the air. Thom stared, holding his cock up, red and straining now. He stood it up away from his belly for Blackwall to drip oil down. The slick drops made him shudder. It felt like the wettest, gentlest tongue sliding over the head, down to puddle up at his fingers. Thom moaned, long and loud as he spread the oil around.

“Better, lad?” Blackwall grinned up at him as Thom thumbed the crown, making his hips twitch. “That how you like it? Fast and light up on the tip?”

Talking to a man about how he stroked his own cock was odd but it made his balls tighten up to hear Blackwall breathing hard. Thom slowed down, flicked the notch under the head of his cock with a finger, grunting at the spike of pleasure. “Sometimes. But slow’s good, too.”

Thom folded his left arm up behind his head and Blackwall’s eyes went to the way his shirt stretched tight over his pecs.

 _“Good gods_ , but you’re an eyeful, lad.” Blackwall was practically panting now, his nostrils flaring with his quick breaths. His fingers stirred restless on Thom’s inner thigh. Blackwall brushed the backs of his knuckles against his perineum and Thom tensed.

“Not to worry, Thom,” the older man chuckled. “I’m not looking to do anything but watch your spunk hit your belly. There’s a good lad.” Blackwall rolled Thoms’ balls carefully in his fingertips and Thom’s hips jerked in response, wanting more.

“You’ll get your wish,” Thom groaned, arching a little off his bedroll and trying to get a leg straightened out right. He needed to push against something. Holding his breath wasn’t going to be enough this time. He needed to use the twitching muscles in his thighs. Hand stroking fast and hard, Thom let his head thrash a little against his coat, a couple of frustrated grunts getting away from him.

Blackwall huffed out a surprised breath, pushing Thom’s shirt up, running his fingertips through the hair on his belly. “That’s it lad, move around if it helps.” He teased Thom’s nipples with his thumb. “Fuck your hand, Thom.”

He got both heels firmly in the hay and did just that; swearing, teetering right on the edge.

“Go on, then, lad.” Blackwall’s hand dipped between his thighs again. Thom slowed down, wanting to show off a bit since he had such an appreciative audience but he was too far along for that.

He’d need to stop for more oil and that would only throw him off, set him back a minute. He wanted to come, dammit. Blackwall’s rough fingertips tweaked first one nipple then the other. He rubbed in tight little circles that sent a jittery throb down into Thom’s balls but it still wasn’t enough.

“Look at you, lad,” Blackwall rasped, and Thom met his eyes with a furious snarl of frustration.

“Fucking gorgeous, and so _good_ , you’ll come for me, won’t you?”

Something about the words - the quiet awe in the older man’s voice - startled him and then he was coming in three long hard pulses that made his eyes clench shut on a shout. A bunch of tingling little spurts followed and he caught most of it in his closed fist.

Blackwall’s satisfied hum matched his own. The Warden’s hand slid through the streaks of come on Thom’s stomach before he handed him a scrap of cloth to clean up with.

“Thanks for that, lad.” Blackwall watched him wipe the worst of the mess away. He’d missed a splotch near his navel and the Warden swiped his thumb over it before pulling Thom’s shirt down.

“Ah, yeah,” Thom threw the rag aside and hitched up his breeches, leaving his softening cock out of the flies as Blackwall shifted back to his own bedroll. “Don’t mention it.” Now that his head was clear, he didn’t have any idea what to say.

Blackwall chuckled, the lines around his eyes making him look ancient for a second. “I won’t.” He rolled over. As they both got settled again, Thom tucking himself away, Blackwall looked back over his shoulder. “But any time you want to get your cock out around me, go ahead.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Should I have been doing something?”

“What’s that?” Blackwall turned back a bit, just enough to get a look down at him as Thom struggled up the steep embankment.

“Last night. I heard you.” Thom found himself going red in the face. And when was the last time that had happened? But he plowed ahead. “Did you want me to _help_ or something?”

“That woulda been fine, lad.” Blackwall stopped, put his hands on his hips and nodded over a few deep breaths. “I was laying there thinking about your hands on your cock anyway.”

Thom knew what women wanted from him. He knew how to talk to girls. He knew how to look at them to get a hand under their skirt, a mouth around his cock. Men wanted something similar - he already had that proven ten times over before he’d even made Captain. But those were nights of negotiation, quid-pro-quo, a transaction with sex for favors and vice versa. He’d let them suck him off, come hard down their throats and walk away richer. Neither made mention of it in public again - though he’d endured his fair share of private innuendo.

Blackwall wasn’t coy about it. He liked to watch Thom jerk off the same way he liked roast nug or Denerim ale or seeing a kid play fetch with a dog. Blackwall found pleasure in it and didn’t mind admitting as much. But the past three nights he had kept to his side of the tent and he hadn’t said anything.

“Do you mind knowing I was thinking about it?”

“No.” Thom twisted his glove as he considered how much to say. What did he want? The Wardens were supposed to save him in exchange for death sometime down the road, but it didn’t mean this one Warden in particular needed to take an interest.

Thom heard a sharp snap and thud from over the crest of the hill. One of his traps. Blackwall grinned and nodded.

“That sounds like supper’s arrived just as we showed up. Lucky.” Blackwall wiped at his wet brow again and jerked his head at the hill. “You fetch it out and I’ll skin it, deal?”

Thom nodded.

“As for the rest, I meant it about getting your cock out around me if you feel like it.”

“So.” His face was hot again, it made him feel like the Lad the Warden kept calling him. He trudged up the hill, hoping it wasn’t another weasel. Nug would be good. He fought the urge to smile at Blackwall and thought about food, not fucking. “So I…that’s all right, then.”

***********

Carving was soothing in a way it hadn’t been a decade ago, a year ago, even a month earlier. But now sitting by the campfire, quiet but not uncomfortable with the Warden a few feet away, Thom drew the little knife from his pack and started picking at a bit of birch he’d cut before sunset.

Blackwall didn’t ask what it was going to be. Which was good, since he didn’t know. But the motion settled his nerves as he squinted at the grain, trying to feel out the lines the wood wanted to have.

Pieces of silverite armor were stacking up on the grass in front of Blackwall. Thom watched him stretch and sigh happily, shifting closer to the warmth of the fire.

“Aren’t you nervous, taking it all off, sitting with our backs to the trees?” Thom kept some armor until the moment he stripped off to sleep. If he could sleep in it, he would have.

“Not at all. The horses will let us know if someone comes around. And you’ll see, nobody pokes at a Warden on his own out here. Thieves know we’ve got nothin’ worth stealing, Arls can’t tax us and nobody wants to kill darkspawn themselves.”

That made sense and now he felt foolish for asking. Yawning, he blew dust from what he was now sure would turn out to be a fish. Maybe one of those ruddy great carp the Antivans kept as garden ornaments.

The Warden finished his tea and said good night, same as every night. Thom started a few scales and scratched out the arc of the tail fins until the fire died down so far he couldn’t make the lines out.

Getting his kit off in a tent was a right pain. His elbows knocked into the poles and he didn’t like tracking in dirt from his boots. Better to strip down then duck under the flaps with an armful of clothes and armor.

He’d never really thought about how his habit meant settling his bedroll, folding his coat up for a pillow, putting his sword close to hand - all of it with his bare ass on display. Men didn’t pay attention to shit like that out in the field.

But fucked if he wasn’t disappointed that the Warden didn’t roll right over and do _something_. Thom got settled under his blanket but Blackwall had his back to him. He took his half-hard cock in hand, knowing the rhythm would be heard.

Thom let a few noises out that he could’ve kept in, but still he jumped when Blackwall turned his way. The squeak of cork in glass wasn’t a shock but he shoved the blanket down to his hips for nothing, it seemed.

The Warden was still watching, just waiting, his hand under his own blanket moving slowly. Nothing much showed but his tan face and his shoulders, fish belly white. Thom cleared his throat and it was embarrassingly loud in the dark. Not knowing what else to do, threw his covers all the way off.

“Up, lad,” Blackwall said quietly, his eyes heavy. “Up on your knees.”

Thom rolled and knelt in the ruins of his bedroll, feeling cold and awkward until the Warden propped up on an elbow, leaning in to see better in the weak moonlight that filtered through their tent. Thom spit into his hand and looked down until his hair was hanging in his face.

He’d always liked an audience and now he was sure it didn’t much matter who was watching, as long as it got them going. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for the bottle of oil he could smell - sort of medicinal but not too strong.

“Ye gods, but I like watching you work, Thom.” Blackwall sat up, joints cracking.

“Turn around.”

He did and then the older man was right up behind him, his warm furry chest pressed into Thom’s back and weatherd hand sliding down his stomach. Thom let go, and the Warden’s callused hand took hold of him.

Thom hissed, arched up into Blackwall’s oil- slick fist. The Warden laughed, “Shh, easy there, lad. Nice and slow.”

Too slow. He shuddered, impatient but also unable to say anything to hurry Blackwall along. It was good, really good. A strong hand, sliding firmly but not pulling too hard, wringing a moan out of Thom as he went lightly over the head, rubbing with his thumb until the red skin gleamed and his balls tightened up.

“I’ll come, yes, you keep on and I’ll come like that.” It was only fair to give warning, but the Warden slowed down even more. He set an achingly slow pace. Thom grunted in frustration.

“Lad, I wanna watch you a little while. I’ll finish you off, Thom - I promise - but first I wanna feel you.”

“Oh, fuck, yes, like that, harder.”

Blackwall leaned into him, resting his chin on Thom’s shoulder. He sank back on his heels a little farther, letting himself go limp against the older man. Blackwall took his weight with a sigh and wrapped his free arm around Thom’s middle.

“That’s right, my boy. Lean back and let me.”

What was he supposed to do but follow orders? He could do that, he could do as he’s told. A moan worked its way out of his chest as he watched Blackwall’s hand stroke him. He could feel the older man’s own cock against his hip, warm and a bit slippery with oil. He shifted until it was rubbing against him with the motion of Blackwall’s hand.

“Good lad.”

“No,” Thom groaned and Blackwall stopped, still holding him firmly. “Don’t say that.”

The Warden picked his head up, his breath hot on Thom’s neck, thick beard tickling. “What? Good lad? Aren’t you?”

Of course not. He was small and shoddy - a worthless pile of dumb muscle and regret. His stomach clenched under Blackwall’s stroking palm. He shook his head.

“You’ve fucked up, Thom. There’s no getting away from that. It doesn’t mean you aren’t gonna get better. You _can_ make it right, my boy.” Blackwall slid his oily fist slowly up his softening length, twisting at the head of Thom’s cock, making him hiss through his teeth and arch up helplessly, desperate for more.

“Trust me, Thom.” That slippery hand worked him patiently, dragging him back to fully hard until Thom was twitching against the solid chest behind him, back going slick with sweat.. Blackwall let go of his thigh and pushed his fingers into Thom’s hair, turning his head until he had no choice but to face the Warden’s heavy blue eyes. “I’ve done my share of evil, lad. Tomorrow we’ll undo some of it. And more the next day, and the next.”

Thom shuddered, closed his eyes until Blackwall tightened his grip on Thom’s hair painfully.

“You hear me, lad?” The hand around him stroked hard again, hard and suddenly fast until Thom gasped. “What’s tomorrow for?”

He didn’t follow - only shook his head as much as he could without his scalp stinging even more. Arching up into Blackwall’s fist didn’t help, he only thumbed over the head where Thom was so sensitive he yelped.

“What’ll we _do_ tomorrow?”

“Good,” Thom gritted out between his teeth, opening his eyes and looking desperately around the dark tent. He was looking for anything to focus on but the Warden staring at his mouth like he was mad for it. Thom licked his dry lips and Blackwall groaned as he leaned in until he was stealing Thom’s panting breaths.

“Ye gods but your mouth’s tempting, lad.” The fingers in his hair gentled, rubbing over the sore spots. Blackwall ducked his chin and licked a scorching line up and over the back of his shoulder, scraping his teeth along after.

He did want something in his mouth. Maker, he wanted a kiss, a hard one, full of teeth. Instead he pulled Blackwall’s hand from the back of his head and sucked two callused fingers into his mouth. Blackwall’s cock against his hip went sticky as he rutted against him faster. Blackwall’s skin tasted of char from the kettle he’d made their tea in earlier. Thom swirled his tongue over the hard pads of his fingers.

“Maker, lad.” Blackwall moaned into the hair behind Thom’s ear. “Turn around, do that where I can see.” He nipped at Thom’s ear and shivered when Thom let his fingers go with a long hard suck then turned his head to face him.

Thom let the Warden slip his fingers back into his mouth, tongue curling around them. Blackwall was watching so intently he forgot to stroke Thom, thumb petting his chin through the fringe of his beard. Thom hollowed his cheeks, sucking and scraping his teeth along Blackwall’s skin. The warden groaned and let go of Thom to tug at his own cock.

Thom twisted back and glanced down at his furious pace. In a moment Blackwall’s thick, flushed cock was spurting against his hip. Blackwall hissed and grabbed at Thom’s chin convulsively as he came.

“Ach, lad.” The Warden’s eyes were clenched but he opened them to watch his fingers slide out of Thom’s mouth and trace his lips carefully. “That mouth of yours is a sin.”

Thom snatched up the vial of oil and dribbled a bit over his weeping cock. Blackwall fisted it fast and light, just the way Thom needed. He let Thom thrust into his hand and then pulled him close again, shuffling until the curly hair on his thighs tickled Thoms spread knees. Thom resisted more out of instinct than any real unwillingness. But the relief he felt just letting his head rest on the Warden’s shoulder - that was worth feeling odd.

Thom wedged his nose into the crook of Blackwall’s neck, and that was easier. He knew what to do with the salty taste of bare skin under his tongue. Yes, the body he pressed himself to was big and hard and hairy, but it was warm and sweat-slick too.

There was a bit of softness. The skin of the older man’s sides was smooth. Ale and age had put flesh on his hips under Thom’s grasping hands. Blackwall was working his cock so perfectly, it was all Thom could do to keep from calling out to Andraste. He kept his tongue busy sucking a welt into Blackwall’s neck until with a last twist all the strength left his legs and he was coming, coming like it had been dragged out of his spine, up from his heels, leaving nothing but weakness and gooseflesh in its wake.

“That’s right,” Blackwall mumbled into Thom’s sweaty hair, squeezing his cock a few times then brushing it against his furry belly until Thom hissed and flinched back. “Good lad. You’re gorgeous, coming for me - letting me see you like that.”

Tears pricked at his eyes and he slunk backwards into the mess of his bedroll, pulling clumsily at the blankets, wiping spunk from his chest with shaking hands. Blackwall said nothing, though Thom couldn’t make himself look the other man’s way as they settled in so he might have been angry at Thom’s silence, who knew?

Thom got under the blanket, ignoring the way it stuck to his sweaty ribs. Punching his spare blankets into a better pillow, he inched a little closer to Blackwall’s half of the tent, laying on his side facing him. Listening to the steady breathing in the dark an arm’s length away calmed his own and Thom closed his eyes.

What did it mean that a few kind words from an old warhorse were enough to choke him up?

A few breaths later Blackwall’s gentle fingers were in his hair, his thumb stroking the lines between Thom’s brows lightly. “We’ll do better tomorrow, lad, and better still the next day.”

He wasn’t talking about jerking off. It would have been easier if he was.

“You’re on the path Thom. You’ll get there yet.” Then he just lay there with him, hand in his hair, pretending not to notice Thom sniffle himself to sleep.

 


	3. Storm Coast

The next Sunday he shaved. He wasn’t even sure why. It was a stupid thing to do. Blackwall had seen the bills posted outside the tavern. Long ratty hair and a bit of beard was never enough to make him a new man, but it had felt safer, for certain. Yet there he was, using the razor by feel, hoping he got it all.

Blackwall took it from him and turned his head to one side, pulling his skin taut at the temple. Part of him wanted to flinch away, part of him wanted to wait until the warden got to cleaning up stray hairs on his neck. Thom sat on a log and thought hard about leaning into the edge of the razor as it passed his jugular. 

The Warden hummed a little to himself while he worked. Nothing touched Thom but his fingertips, his callused thumb holding skin tight to keep from nicking. Things were stirring in the brush as the sun got over the horizon. Blackwall nodded, pleased with the results. 

“Good enough to be getting on with, lad,” he said with a smile as he wiped a dribble of oil from Thom’s neck with the backs of his fingers. 

Blue eyes latched onto his lips and for a second Thom was sure he was going to lean down and kiss him. And that was mad. Thom Rainier didn’t merit kisses. He didn’t even want kisses - not from a man anyway. His cheeks went hot at the thought. 

“Thank you, Blackwall.”

“You’re very welcome, Thom. Sinful, keeping a face like that hidden.”

Breakfast was silent but by noon he’d let it spill out of him. The short version, but the truth nonetheless. He talked to the older man’s back, told his disgusting tale to the clods of dirt kicked up in front of him by Blackwall’s horse. Thom didn’t look Blackwall in the face for the rest of their long ride. Supper was quiet until a bottle of whiskey came out of the Warden’s pack.

Blackwall had a long pull and offered Thom the bottle. “You’ve got no cause to be surly, lad.” He tugged thoughtfully at his curly beard. “I’ve heard worse tales.” Blackwall chuckled. “Maybe not so well-known but worse. You were right to get out of Orlais.”

“If there’s something else you have to know, just say it.” Thom felt himself balling up, his shoulders climbing toward his ears as he hunched against the frigid wind. Blackwall passed the bottle, inching closer until they were side by side. Thom rubbed a hand over his chin, already bristly with a day’s worth of stubble.

“I don’t have to know anything you don’t wanna tell.” Blackwall’s somber eyes in the firelight were kind but with none of their usual crinkled tilt. The black of his beard merged with his hair, with the woods behind him.

“It can’t be that simple.” 

“Lad, what’ve you got against simple?”

Thom laughed, too, but his eyes stung. He’d be damned if he was going to snivel into his whiskey, so he did the only thing he could think of: slid his hand up Blackwall’s leg and palmed the bigger man’s cock. 

His mouth fell open before he caught himself with a little grin. “You don’t wanna talk, lad, don’t.” The Warden’s hand pressed over his, holding him still. “But you don’t have to try and distract me.” 

Blackwall’s cock was going firm, Thom could feel his balls shifting a bit with Blackwall’s quick breaths. “You said I could help,” Thom rasped, his voice rusty with more miserable, useless tears. “I’m going to help.”

The older man smiled at him, showing the gap in his teeth. He let go of Thom’s hand and closed his eyes on a groan. 

As Thom got hold of the back of Blackwall’s neck the Warden made a noise of surprise. 

Pressing his lips to another man’s was odd. He was glad now he’d shaved. Two beards such as theirs would have been an awful lot of scruff in the way. Blackwall tasted of  
whiskey, but it wasn’t so different from kissing anyone else. There was still a slick nimble tongue and breath on his cheek. Thom let Blackwall lead, his tongue insistent in a way Blackwall’s hands on him had never been.

Thom scraped his teeth and the bristles on his top lip along where he’d sucked a bruise into Blackwall’s neck three days earlier. He felt the cock under his hand jerk and stiffen up all the way.

Blackwall moaned as Thom stroked him firmly through his breeches. “You _are_ helping, my boy.” A heavy hand tangled itself in his hair, pulling the leather tie free and spreading it over his shoulders. Blackwall grinned at him, tugging the hair in his fist lightly. “Maker, I’ve been walking around half hard since the other night.”

He felt himself flushing under the Warden’s appraisal. “What about…” He couldn’t get another word out past the lump in his throat. He let go of Blackwall so he could use both hands to tear off his heavy coat.

Blackwall sat back to give him a bit of room, but took hold of one of his wrists when he started to skin out of the thick jumper he wore over his ratty old shirt. “Easy, lad. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

“I don’t feel the cold like other people.” Thom pulled the jumper off, trying to take his shirt with it but the cuffs were buttoned tight. He jerked at them with a grunt of frustration, his hands trapped a moment.

“Easy,” the Warden soothed him. He ran a hand down Thom’s neck to his shoulder. Thom broke out in gooseflesh - not from the cold wind but from Blackwall’s thumb on his collarbone. “No rush, Thom.”

“You want me bare, I can see it.” Working one hand free with his help, Thom attacked the other inside-out cuff. 

Blackwall laughed and the hot rush of temper it brought up shocked Thom.

But the Warden’s hands were gentle as they got him free of his stupid shirt. “Not laughing at you like that, lad.” Blackwall sighed and shook his head, dragging the backs of his knuckles down Thom’s sternum. “Look at you,” Blackwall chuckled as the light touch made Thom’s stomach clench. “Eyes wild, always thrashing around looking for a fight - and fit as the butcher’s dog.”

Thom went hot again and it must’ve shown even in the firelight, because Blackwall smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “Don’t worry about it, lad. There’s naught wrong with liking to fight and fuck better than anything else.” His thin lips were still smiling as they worked their way along his jaw. Thom could feel the humid puffs of laughter below his ear. 

“Naught wrong with it, not looking the way you do.” Blackwall kneaded the tight muscles of his lower back, callused fingers warm.

The silverite griffin on Blackwall’s armor was icy against Thom’s chest. He reached for the Warden’s belt, tugging at the buckle and pulling up. “Get up,” he muttered as he tilted his head back to make room for Blackwall’s mouth on his neck. 

“If you like, my boy.”

Blackwall’s eyes were wide with anticipation as he stood, for all that he tried to sound like it didn’t much matter one way or the other. Thom saw his hands curl into fists as he turned, between Thom and the fire. Getting the Warden out of his breeches took some work, as Thom couldn’t see shit in the sudden shadow. 

“Hold a moment, Thom.” Blackwall twisted to stoke the fire with dry branches, stirring up a cloud of sparks. Then he straddled the log they’d been using as a seat, so that Thom had to turn. “Better,” Blackwall sighed, tucking Thom’s long hair behind his ears. 

The higher flames were hot on the side of his face as he undid Blackwall’s breeches. And then there was a cock in his hand. And it wasn’t his own. It curved upward and it was stout - thick and pale, like the rest of the Warden. Blackwall hissed when Thom stroked him while he got settled on the log better. 

He watched him, eyes glinting in the orange glow of the fire. Thom didn’t take it slow. He licked a stripe up the underside and then plunged ahead, taking as much in his mouth as he could. Blackwall’s hands found his bare shoulders, squeezing, stroking, and Thom got the feeling he was trying not to grab at him. He slowed down and circled the base of Blackwall’s cock, hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed his head.

The smell of him was strong. Salty and…warm somehow in a way women didn’t smell. The hard length of cock sliding over his tongue felt alien but soon he found himself thinking what it must feel like for the Warden. Thom sped up a bit, rolled his balls carefully in his fingers.

“Maker, lad, that’s good.” Blackwall took a great shuddering breath and then let one hand rest on Thom’s head. “You’re a natural.”

He had to stop petting his head. Thom felt tears in his eyes again and sat back a bit, working the spit slick length with his hand. What the fuck was he doing? Sucking a Grey Warden’s cock in the middle of nowhere Ferelden.

“All right, Thom?” Blackwall’s voice was rough with lust but his hand on Thom’s head was light, not moving now.

“Yeah,” he heard himself answer before leaning back in to suck the head of his cock lightly, running his tongue over the spongy flesh. “I might be rubbish at this.”

“Doing fine, my boy.” Blackwall sighed, his hips twitching a little. The hand in Thom’s hair stroked his temple carefully. “You’re an eyeful, lad, that’s the gods’ honest truth.” When Thom took him back into his mouth, letting the head of his cock slide between his lips slowly, Blackwall stared. “Even if you were rubbish, I’d let you carry on just to watch that mouth of yours.”

Well, that was good to hear anyway. If he was any judge of getting your cock sucked, Thom knew what felt good on the other end of things. 

“Do what you like, my boy”

Blackwall wobbled a bit, then widened his stance. The long muscles under Thom’s hand went hard as the older man flexed his thighs with a groan at Thom’s hollowed cheeks. He sucked hard, a bitter taste at the back of his throat making him feel oddly triumphant. At least he could still get someone off, even if he was good for little else these days.  
He looked up again, past the gleam of silverite, the thick beard, the skinny blade of the Warden's nose. Blackwall grimaced, one hand on Thom’s shoulder, the other holding half his hair back from his face, moving with him so as not to pull.

 

“Good lad, yes.” Blackwall urged him on, pulled just a bit until Thom moved faster. “Wish there was more moon…you’re gorgeous.” His fingers dragged carefully down Thom’s cheek, caught a smear of drool at the corner of his mouth before it could drip to join the rest sliding cold down his stomach. 

“Messy business, this.” Blackwall chuckled and shuddered. He held Thom’s hair and pulled slowly out of his mouth. 

A perverse impulse to tease made Thom suck hard in return. Blackwall’s moan echoed in the still little clearing as Thom let him go with a loud pop. Blackwall was on his knees and dragging Thom in for a growling kiss in no time. 

“You damn near had a mouthful of come, lad.” 

The sharp sting in his scalp made him hard again while he bit and licked at the Warden’s mouth as much as he could without breaking away from Blackwall’s grip on his hair. 

Shrinking back from the freezing metal of Blackwall’s chest plate got the older man’s attention. He pulled Thom’s hand from his cock with a groan.

“Inside before you catch your death.”

There was a minute to think while Blackwall banked the fire and came along behind him. Thom pulled his boots off, tossed them back outside the tent and made room for the other man to duck in. “Before you get your hopes up,” Thom muttered, looking down as he tied his hair back again. “I should say I’m not, ah, not looking to-”

Blackwall laughed his big booming guffaw and stripped out of his armor. “Not to worry, lad.”

Thom got on his knees to open his breeches, and he could feel his ears going hot; so busy avoiding the Wardens eyes he was startled by a hand on the back of his neck. “Nothing personal, you follow?”

Hot breath on his shoulder as Blackwall laughed again, softer this time. “I’ll take whatever you’re giving.” He pulled the tie out of Thom’s hair again, and petted the hair on his belly. Thom’s cock twitched hopefully. 

“But be warned,” he said into the crook of Thom’s neck as he eased a hand into his loosened breeches. “Give me a week and I’ll persuade you.” 

His bark of laughter surprised them both.

“What’s funny?” Blackwall rubbed the heel of his hand against him with an appreciative sigh.

Thom twisted until he could see the Warden’s lopsided grin. “Fuck’s sake! I wonder did I sound as slimy saying shit like that to girls all these years?”

“Talked your way under a good number of skirts, have you?”

Thom closed his eyes on a groan as his hips twitched into Blackwall’s rough hand. 

“That’s what we call an incriminating silence, my boy.” The Warden ran a thumb along his lips until he opened, licked and sucked obediently. Slick now, Blackwall spread a few drops that had leaked from his tip around the ridge until Thom shuddered in his grip. “Good lad.” He did it again until Thom hissed at the intense pleasure.

“Any more of that oil?”

“Depends.” 

Looking up now, Thom wriggled his breeches down to his knees with a grunt as Blackwall squeezed the length of him hard enough to make his balls tighten up. 

“Fuck, yes, like that.” He let his forehead fall onto Blackwall’s shoulder. “Depends on what?”

“It tastes like shit.” Blackwall nipped his ear then sat and pulled at Thom’s hip, urging him to shuffle forward on his knees until he could feel the older man’s breath stirring the hair around his navel. “And I wanna suck you off.” 

His beard was a torment on Thom’s hip and thigh. When Thom twitched, Blackwall grinned up at him and hunched over enough to suck his balls into his hot mouth one after the other. That knocked the wind out of him and stole whatever he’d been about to say. He couldn’t remember, but it was definitely agreement. Done torturing him, the Warden set to work in earnest, humming around him once he’d taken in as much as would fit.

Maker’s mother’s stinking shite. He couldn’t recall when he’d had his cock sucked so well. Blackwall’s eyes on his were too much, so Thom tipped his head back and put both hands in his hair, biting his lip when he needed a little pain for distraction. Blackwall’s hand slid up and down his side, over his belly, reaching up to tweak his nipples until he twitched. 

“Slow down,” Thom grunted, trying to stop himself fucking into Blackwall’s throat and gagging him. “Maker have mercy, slow down, don’t want to-” he gasped and gritted his teeth a moment until the tightness in his balls eased. “Don’t want to come yet.”

Blackwall hummed in approval, his tongue rubbing circles on that little notch under the head of his cock until Thom had to stifle a sob. Then he switched; soft and slow, lips and tongue gliding along like he had the rest of the night to play with him. 

“Fuck. I take it back.” Thom said a little while later. “That’s twice now you could’ve- _hnng_ \- could’ve finished me off.”

The Warden pulled away with a sucking kiss to the tip of him that made Thom jerk and hiss. Thom watched him spit into one hand and stroke himself hard and fast, the tendons in his arms plain to see even in the murky light. “You look good with your cock in my mouth, Thom.” 

He blinked, not sure what to say to that.

“I like you that way. Twitching and cursing fit to rust armor.”

Thom gave himself a little tug, the friction of his dry palm almost more than he could take. Blackwall leaned in and when Thom paused to squeeze himself at the base, he licked at the head of his cock, swirled his tongue quickly until Thom groaned. They went on that way a few times, until Blackwall came with a sharp gasp and bit down on Thom’s knuckles where they were wrapped around his own cock. 

Mouth open, he stayed still as Thom brought himself off. Taking it for an invitation, Thom rubbed the head of his cock against the Warden’s bottom lip, watching fascinated as his come arced into the other man’s mouth and dripped into his beard. 

Thom shuddered, his legs trembling, black spots in his vision. Whether it was all the waiting to come, or the belly full of whiskey and little else, Thom didn’t think twice about stretching out on the closest bedroll. With a shivering sigh, he stretched and drew the spare blanket closer for a pillow as Blackwall got to his knees, joints cracking. The nagging feeling he should say something was pushed aside by a face-splitting yawn.

Blackwall nudged him. “Wrong bed, lad.”

Moving was too much trouble. Thom lifted the blanket with another yawn. “Take mine or get in.”

There was just enough light to see the older man’s surprise. 

“In or out, Warden.” Now that he’d had time to think about it, maybe it wasn’t the done thing to offer. Thom was about to sit up, shuffle in the cold air over to his own bedroll, when Blackwall dragged it closer and settled in next to him. Tucking an arm behind his head, Thom scratched at his stubbly chin and shut his eyes.

Blackwall’s arm pressed along his ribs, one cold foot brushed his ankle. That much, at least, wasn't any different sharing a bed with a bloke. Always cold feet.

“What?” Thom turned his head to see the Warden staring at him. His stomach flopped over. “Should I move?”

He seemed to be staring at Thom’s armpit. “Nah, lad, it’s fine.” Blackwall rolled onto his side and fidgeted. The scratchy wool blankets crackled with static over both their chests. 

One hand crept over Thom’s ribs, curled into a loose fist and resting lightly on his sternum. 

It was a night for firsts. He'd already had a cock in his mouth, why not sleep - actually sleep -curled up with a grizzled old man?

“Come on then,” Thom sighed, feeling himself flush red. He took his arm from under his head and none-too-gently stretched it out. Blackwall moved just in time to avoid being elbowed in the face, then settled his head on Thom’s bicep. “Maker, it’s like cuddling a tree trunk,” Thom exclaimed.

With a laugh, Blackwall got comfortable, slid a leg over Thom’s, the leather of Blackwall’s breeches pulling at the hairs there until he was still. “I didn’t take you for the type, my boy.” Blackwall’s voice was a bit muffled. He had the blanket pulled up nearly to his nose.

Thom shrugged and shut his eyes again, determined not to think about what he was doing or why. That sort of not-thinking was always easier after a good fuck. 

“I figure it’s fair.” Thom muttered. “If a girl had sucked me off and made it last a half-hour I’d bloody well _cuddle her_ if she wanted.”

***

Garbled screaming, and something hit him in the chest.

Thom was sitting up, sword in hand before he’d even opened his eyes all the way.

“Blackwall?!” He reached over and shook the older man’s arm. 

Blackwall came awake with another shout then rolled over, teeth chattering around his apologies.

“’S fine,” Thom grumbled, getting back under the blanket. He’d almost drifted off when Blackwall’s elbow slammed into his ribs. “Oo-fuck, man!”

Blackwall sat up, shivering, and tried to climb over Thom’s legs to get to the tent flap, cursing when rain blew in as he opened it. 

“Close that, and lay the fuck down, Blackwall,” Thom snapped, fully awake and fully peeved. He jerked him back by his shirt and pulled him down to the piled up bedrolls, throwing the spare blanket over them both.

Blackwall settled into him with a grateful sigh, blowing into his cupped hands under the blanket. 

“I heard Wardens get nightmares near darkspawn nests.”

The older man tucked his hands under his arms and inched closer to Thom’s warmth. “Nugshit. We get nightmares every place.”

Thom knew all about the way dreams clung: the high-pitched shriek of a boy who’s seen his father dead on the snow and knows the men with axes are coming for him now. A whole garrison aflame, men clawing at the arrow slits, trying to get to clean air. Maker, the stink of it next morning. Darkspawn couldn’t be any better or worse for horror at night.

“Roll over.”

When Blackwall made no move, Thom elbowed him. “Roll over, damn you. Yes, that way.” 

Thom threw his arm over the still-shivering Warden. His greying hair smelled like woodsmoke and horse.

“How’re you so warm?” Blackwall wriggled backwards until Thom’s knees were tucked into the backs of his thighs. 

“Quiet.” Thom blew a strand of hair away from his lip. “Go to sleep.”

******

“Better get another.” 

Thom turned to eye the pile of fish on the grass behind him. “We having company for supper?”

The only people on the Coast were smugglers and bandits. Or dead smugglers and dead bandits, which was all he’d seen in two days worth of riding through wet and cold. Grey. Rocks in every shape and size, all of them slimed with algae and salt spray.

“There’s a place nearby name of Apostate’s Landing,” Blackwall grinned. “We could see if they’re feeling chatty.”

Thom put another cricket on his hook and waded out farther into the stream. “I’ve got no use for a fireball in the face.”

“I’m hungry lad, I’ll eat as many as you can catch.” 

Blackwall hadn’t looked right all day. Twitchy, for all he tried to hide it. The Storm Coast didn’t agree with him. “I’ve heard you lot tend to eat more.”

Taking up the smallest fish, the Warden shrugged and began scraping at its scales. “Some do, some don’t. It’s not for the strength, that…just comes.” He looked thoughtful, watching the trees sway on the opposite bank. “I couldn’t keep flesh on me when I was younger. Now I can make muscles out of nothing but dry biscuits and pond water if I had to. But eating helps.”

Thom felt his way on the slippery rocks of the stream bed, backing up a little before his rolled up breeches could get soaked.  
“I knew a Warden from Denerim, he sang to himself all day. Others walk, walk, walk. They wear a track in the battlements up in Weisshaupt. Some fuck, some drink.” He threaded a birch twig through the cleaned fish, dipping it in the water one last time. “There’s a restless feeling in my gut, not like anything else. Eating shuts it up for a while.” 

“I’ll make a proper meal for a deepstalker some day. Fat and gristly.” Blackwall grinned up at him and started the next fish. 

******

“You could’ve said what I’d be doing tonight.”

Blackwall came closer, tightening his bracers with a frown. “And ruin a good supper? Now you’re stuffed full and rested. Best time to go and do something nasty. There was no sense in you sitting around fretting all evening.”

Thom shrugged then sat and checked that the knife he kept in his boot was secure. 

“It’ll be dangerous, my boy.” Blackwall pulled at the strap over Thom’s shoulder, frowning down at him.

“No more dangerous than usual.” It couldn’t be that bad, surely? Wardens were fucking everywhere during the Blight. If it was so hard to kill a darkspawn there wouldn’t have been so many running around still alive.

The Warden’s hand slipped under the collar of his padded coat, along the back of his neck. Thom shivered and glanced up, hoping for a little reassurance in Blackwall’s weathered face.

“Surely, Thom. Nothing worse than you’re used to, but keep your head up and your torch lit. No turning your back on them and no going deeper than you have to. Find one and stick it. Once this is full, you’re straight back up here.” He held up an empty glass vial, glinting in the firelight.

Thom laughed. “Is that…?”

“Told you we needed to use it up last night.” Blackwall grinned and bent to stuff it into Thom’s belt.

The older man’s mouth crashed into his. All hard teeth and insistent lips. Thom gave back as good as he got, hooking an arm around Blackwall’s waist and pulling him down to his level. A gust of wind kicked up pine needles and wet sea air as Blackwall pulled away with a reluctant chuckle.

The Warden got up and hauled Thom to his feet. Blackwall checked Thom’s armor one last time, gave him a slap on the shoulder and pointed him down the hill and toward a cave.

“I’ll be here when you’ve got it, lad.”


End file.
